Promise
by chrisspiration
Summary: Chris and Darren take some time to 'freshen-up' after shooting two hours of the Klaine kiss.


"And that's a wrap!"

Chris lets himself slump back into the chair, his lips sliding away from Darren's smoothly—Kurt's lips from Blaine's, he reminds himself—and takes a deep breath, well-aware of how flushed he is, and the manner in which his chest is heaving. It's the eighth take they've done; cameras switching angles around them, and the makeup team swooping in to cover up the evident blush on both of their necks after the kissing.

Darren licks his lips rather distractingly, and leans his hand on the table next to them, careful not to stab his palm onto one of the studded fake jewels that would decorate Pavarotti's casket, letting out a chuckle under his breath like whenever he does when he realizes they're in somewhat of an awkward situation.

"Well done, boys," Ryan strides up to them, beaming, and claps Darren on the shoulder, squeezing it and turning his grin to Chris, then, kissing the top of his head. "Go on, freshen up. God knows you two look like you've ran a marathon. We're back to shooting by four. Don't be late."

With that, he salutes them with his hand and swivels around, moving off to talk to some of the camera men, and Chris stands up, wiping his hands on his pants and taking a deep breath, looking up at Darren. "_Well._"

The other man laughs again and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "C'mon, let's go freshen up, _Chris. _All that making-out is making me hungry."

Whether that was supposed to be taken literally or not, Chris isn't perfectly sure.

They were back in Darren's trailer—sneakers were strewn out across the small sitting-room-_thing _where Darren kept a TV, a blanket a mess over the couch, and the soft sound of some music left playing while they filmed; all acutely familiar, too. Closing the door behind him, Chris heads straight for the bathroom, leaning over the sink and splashing his face with some water while his costar moves around in his room. "So, that was interesting," Chris quips loudly as he pats his face dry.

There's a laugh from the other side of the door. "You think?" Darren's face peers out across the doorway, and he leans against him, grinning at him. Chris rolls his eyes.

"We talked about this," he reminds him, giving him a look before shoving him aside gently so he can exit the bathroom, but doesn't make it a foot before Darren's hand snakes around his waist, stopping him and turning him so they were facing each other; Darren's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yes, we did. And I remember you _promising_ me something," he replies slyly, with a smirk trademark of his, which makes Chris roll his eyes and duck under his arm, heading over to the kitchenette to pull himself a can of Diet Coke, which he had all but forced Darren to keep stuffed in his fridge for the occasions in which he visited, as he had with every other castmate.

Chris leans back against the counter of the kitchen as Darren moves to do the same, butt pressing back against the edge of the table which serves all purposes in the small trailer, looking at him expectantly. Chris motions around with his can of Diet Coke before taking a sip and setting it down, fingers tapping against the surface of it. "Well, I thought we did pretty well," he finally points out, with a small shrug.

Darren smirks at him again. "For having been forced to make out for almost two hours straight, yes, I suppose so."

"_Forced_," Chris retorts, faking an offended air and scoffing somewhat. "I take that to heart, Criss. You assured me I was a good kisser."

"And you _are_, but it was still forced."

Licking his lips, Chris brings the can back to them and took a gulp, a smile playing at his lips as he watches Darren against the table, his own eyebrow quirked now. "It was a stage direction. Actors get those from time to time, I don't know if you've heard..."

"And I always say," Darren returns almost instantly, folding his arms across his chest. "Improvisation enhances the quality of the performance by tenfold. I'm almost positive that Ryan will want to keep the second kiss."

Chris lifts a single finger. "The second _attack _to my mouth, you mean." To which Darren laughs.

"There's only so far you can expect a guy to be able to resist, Chris..." he says, with a smirk, watching him, and Chris catches his eye. They look at each other for a while, the moment stretching out between them, tense like a cord about to snap, and Chris's breath hitches in his throat.

They lunge for each other at the same time, Darren's hands scrambling for Chris's waist, and the other's arms wrapping tight around his neck, bringing them flushed close together as their mouths meet into a frantic kiss.

"_Mmm,_" Chris moans a little, fisting his hands into the back of Darren's hair. "You're such a tease," he gasps out, panting into the other's mouth as he gets Kurt's woolen jumper rucked up his back, running his guitar-calloused fingers up the soft skin there, _clinging _onto him.

Darren's mouth is hot against his neck as he starts sucking into the tender flesh. "You started it," he pants, dipping his hands under the waistband of Chris's Dalton slacks. "With your bet about holding it in. You knew I wouldn't be able to stand it."

It's a moment of relative silence, at least as far as speaking goes, while Chris tilts his head back for better access, and Darren keeps laving at the skin of his throat with the tip of his tongue, dipping it in places and hollows that he didn't even know could be so arousing, tracing the planes of his skin in the way he knows best.

Then Chris moans, and Darren pulls back, looking at him heatedly. "Bed," he croaks out, sliding his hands out of Chris's pants and pushing at his chest a little. "Bed, bed, _bed._"

"Easy," Chris breathes out, letting out a soft laugh and backing towards the bedroom again, reaching up to twist his wrist around Darren's Dalton tie and tug him forward before collapsing back on the bed, grinning up at him.

"You promised," Darren whispers, bracing himself over Chris with both of his hands, staring down at him, alternating between gazing into his eyes and dipping down to stare at his mouth hungrily. "Chris, you promised..."

"Well, you _did_ kiss me twice when you weren't supposed to..."

"_Chris." _Darren's all but whining now, and Chris smirks, reaching his elbow out to brace himself and push up, flipping them over so he's looming over Darren instead, watching a hundred emotions go through the other's eyes, behind the full-blown lust in his stare.

"I do have a reputation for always keeping my promises," Chris breathes out, dipping in to slide his tongue dirtily into the other's mouth, licking into it and drawing a rough groan from the man beneath him as he arches up into him, hands grasping for his shoulders. Their tongues battle, twisting around each other, stroking, taking turns in each other's mouth with little panting noises, before Chris manages to pull back, gasping somewhat. "Okay, blowjob, right."

His voice is hoarse, and filled with as much lust as he can see in Darren's face, even as the other's eyes light up excitedly and he sits up to all but tear the blazer off without the care that Chris knows he should put into it, given that the costume department would shoot them both if they so much as scraped one of their outfits.

Clothes flew across the small room, the strip of skin growing in availability as they were shed, taking turns stripping their own and reaching over to undo the other's pants, until they were both tumbling back onto the bed, naked and flushed and so, so eager.

It takes less than usual to get Chris to swoop down between Darren's knees, raking his short fingernails up his thighs and getting more breathy noises from the other. "Fuck, Chris," Darren pants out. "I've been sitting on a _fucking_ chair talking about fucking _moving me_ and fucking candles and fucking duets and—fuck—only getting to kiss you while all I wanted was to pin you down to—"

"Darren, stop talking," Chris yelps, bringing the palm of his hand down on the side of Darren's hip, making a slapping noise that echoes around the small room a little, making them both stop for a moment, breath caught, to absorb that. "Oh."

The bed dips as Darren struggles to sit up, hair mussed, sticking to strange angles over his head from the ridiculous amounts of hair gel pinning it down for Blaine's character, staring down at Chris, erection straining between his legs.

Chris swallows. "_Damn_, you look good," he breathes out, surging up to grab Darren's neck by the back and bring him down to crash their lips together, moaning into it before dropping it suddenly and pushing at his knees, up and aside, to press his lips against the dark red underside of Darren's cock.

The string of curse words that pass through Darren's lips, then, fill the room, and Chris has to reach up to swat at his shoulder until he lies back down. Spreading the shorter man's legs out further, he pulls back, licking his lips and glancing up at his lover, whose face is tilted up to face the ceiling, eyes screwed shut tight and jaw hanging slack as he pants out, the muscles in his neck strained in anticipation.

Grinning to himself at the picture, Chris reaches between his legs to grasp his cock in his hand, palming him experimentally, roughly, as he reaches back into the bedside drawer beside him, taking out the small bottle of lube and squirting some onto his hand before returning to stroking his cock with more ease.

"Mm," Darren moans, bucking his hips up into Chris's hand, silently asking for more, and before waiting another moment longer, Chris draws Darren's cock forward a little and shifts on the bed, sliding up on his belly, before sinking his mouth down over it, taking the whole of the head into his mouth, his lips stretching a little. "Oh, _shit, _Chris."

Humming against it, Chris starts up a pace, stroking at the base of his cock with his hand, squeezing just enough for it to last, and dragging it further into his mouth on every stroke upwards, lips slipping around the ridge and his tongue laving at the underside. Each movement of his lips draws a noise from Darren's mouth, increasingly higher-pitched and louder with time.

It strikes Chris that Chord's trailer is right next to his, and Dianna's is on his other side. That if Darren gets too loud, they might—"Ungh, Chris, _shit_. Shit, can I—_oh_—can I fuck your mouth? Please?"

Chris's lips slip off Darren's cock, still flushed and a dark, erotic red, as well as slick with spit and pre-cum now, with a loud pop, and he peers up at the whine the other lets out at that. "That wasn't—" He stops and clears his throat when his voice comes out low and raspy. "That wasn't part of the promise," he teases him somewhat, gripping onto Darren's thighs in order to climb over him, his own erection dragging across Darren's stomach as he goes, leaning up over him and dipping down to kiss at the spot behind his ear.

"Mm, _please_. I just have to—please, you can fuck mine later but _please,_ Chris," Darren whimpers out, hands coming to grab at Chris's ass, which makes him groan into his neck, and slide his finger lightly between his ass cheeks, teasing at his hole. "You can fuck _me_ later, I swear, but just now—"

"Fuck,_ okay_, Darren!" Chris breathes out, pulling back, staring at him, all but begging him to let him fuck his mouth. "I don't know how you expect to play my on-screen boyfriend at the same time as be my real-life one if you're going to get like this every time we make out."

Darren whimpers, reaching around Chris's hips to wrap his fingers around his cock, stroking his thumb over the head of it, watching up.

Letting out a moan, Chris rolls his head back before letting out a deep breath, rocking a little with his hips, in his straddling position over Darren's stomach, sliding his cock into the other's fist, breathing heavily. "I mean, what if we get a really heavy make-out scene next season or something?" he whispers out, heat coiling around in his stomach at the thought of having to do something in front of cameramen and the director, and possibly other castmates.

"This was just a kiss," he continues, breathily, licking his own lips as he lets himself imagine it. "What if we had something else. On a bed, or on the backseat of a car. What if I have to be on top of you—what if—_fuck_." He thrusts his hips up at a particularly forceful tug of Darren's hand on his cock, and snaps back to reality from his babbling, humming and leaning down to capture Darren's mouth into a hard kiss, before the other man flips them over again, and Chris falls back down on the bed, cock bouncing unceremoniously against his stomach, flushed and hard.

Darren takes his previous position and straddles him, hips lifted off him, kneeling, really, and shuffles forward. "Then you'd have to come up with even more promising ways of sex to get me to behave and follow the script on set," he mutters out, reaching out behind Chris's head to grip at the headboard of the bed, dragging his eyes down to Chris's, boring into his, both intense for a moment.

Chris lets his tongue slide out, relaxing his jaw and looking up at Darren through his eyelashes innocently, like he knows he likes, and Darren swears again above him, before guiding the tip of his glistening cock to Chris's mouth, toying around his lips, leaving a trail of pre-cum along the wake, before he lets it slide into his mouth in one go; it takes everything in Chris not to gag, and somehow manages to keep his tongue steady as Darren strikes up a rhythm, thrusting into his mouth shallowly, slowly, languidly.

But Chris doesn't really want that right now; and Darren asked for _fucking_, so he lifts his hands up and around the other's hips, digging the tips of his fingers onto his boyfriend's ass and tugs him forward, taking half of his cock into his mouth, closing his lips around him a little and swallowing, dragging it out of him. "You," Darren pants, getting the message and sliding his cock out before pushing it back in a little harder than before. "Have _no_ idea what this does to me. Seeing—_ungh—_seeing you like this; so fucking needy for my cock..."

There's a whine, from either of them, Chris isn't sure whom, but he keeps sucking hard at Darren's cock, watching him above him, and somehow not noticing Darren dropping hold of the cock sliding into his mouth until there's a hand fondling under his own balls and he has to buck up into it, moaning around Darren's cock.

"Do that again," Darren breathes out. "Fuck, Chris." He speeds up the stroking of Chris's cock behind him, having reached his arm back, and starts jerking him off faster. "C'mon, baby, I'm close."

It's an overwhelming pool of _feelings_ and sensations inside of Chris as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm, both from the feel of Darren's cock—hot, hard, _full_and heavy against his tongue, sliding in and out as Darren thrusts his hips faster the closer he gets to his own release—and from the way in which Darren is twisting his hand around his cock, dragging it out of him with expert, practiced movements.

He's not sure who comes first, but it's a babble of moans and the bed rocking under them as Darren's thrusts get more frantic and harder, hand squeezing around the base of Chris's cock, and a shout of his name, and then he's spilling into his mouth, and Chris makes a noise before swallowing around him greedily, closing his eyes and slipping his mouth off his cock, dropping his head back as he finishes his own orgasm, chest heaving as they pant together, Darren bracing himself against the headboard, forehead pressed up against his own arm.

There's a line of cum and spit trailing from the corner of Chris's mouth to the tip of Darren's dick, still mostly hard, and flushed, and Chris can't help himself as he lifts up on his elbows and leans forward to lap at the little pool of cum still on Darren's cock, his tongue slipping out in tiny kitten licks, moaning at the feel; Darren hisses above him. "Sensitive," he whispers, before sliding down, and draping himself over his boyfriend's body.

"So, that was interesting," Chris breathes out into Darren's ear, getting a chuckle in return. The shorter man folds his arms in front of him, under his chin, right over Chris's heart, still beating a little faster than normal, to gaze up at him, reaching over to kiss him soundly in thanks.

Their mouths are still sliding together sweetly when one of their phones begins to buzz from their pants, strewn somewhere across the floor, and Darren rolls over a little, reaching out for the pocket of his pants, where his phone is lighting up, and brings it over so he can read it, squinting a little at the text messages.

From: _Lea_  
>To: <em>Darren<em>  
>Message: <em>I'm guessing Klaine finally made out today?<em>

From: _Darren_  
>To:<em> Lea<em>  
>Message: <em>Two-hours. Eight takes.<em>

From: _Lea_  
>To: <em>Darren<em>  
>Message: <em>Di and Amber had a bet that if it took more than five you two would be fucking.<em>

From: _Chris_  
>To: <em>Lea<em>  
>Message:<em> Trying to cuddle with bf after sex. Go away.<em>

Darren laughs as Chris tosses the phones over his shoulder and slides up to him, letting the other's arms wrap around his waist from behind and tuck him close, ignoring the buzzing of one of their phones, still, and hooks his chin over Chris's shoulder. "Chris?" he whispers.

"Mm?"

"Any chance you can pull some strings to get some hot car make-out scenes? We all know Ryan worships you."

Chris brings his elbow back against Darren's stomach and smiles to himself as his boyfriend presses a kiss to his neck and breathes out long and quiet, their chests falling into a similar rhythm as they both drift off into heady sleep.


End file.
